


JWP 2019 #17: Going Gothic

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, Gen, Gothic, Oh so much cheese, Prompt Fic, Terrifying curry, references to classical literature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 14:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: John is helpless in the hands of true villianry. Written for JWP 2019 #17.





	JWP 2019 #17: Going Gothic

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Oh good grief. I'm so sorry for this, but this prompt started it. Passing reference to a classic of gothic literature. Passing references to romantic gothic tropes and stereotypes. If you imagine references to a classic cartoon, you might or might not be imagining things. Terrifying curries, which have [happened before](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466495). Written in a huge rush. You have been warned. 
> 
> Prompt: Going Gothic: Gothic novels/Romance – a popular source of entertainment! Incorporate this genre somehow into your work today, or even create your own bit of gothic fiction! Bonus point if you go extra cheesy.

“What have you done to me?” John gasped, raising one hand to his forehead.

“You are in my clutches,” the Villain Of The Day™ gloated, rubbing his hands together. “There is no one that can help you now.”

John felt his legs give out. He collapsed gracefully onto the fainting couch conveniently placed just behind his knees. His chest heaved, straining against his low-cut shirt. “You’ll never get away with this. Sherlock…”

“I left your hero tied to the train tracks at Waterloo station. He’s undoubtedly in pieces by now.”

“Hardly,” snorted Sherlock, climbing in the window. He tossed his cloak aside, distracting the villain just long enough for him to bash him over the head with his rapier. He stood over his fallen foe just long enough to ensure that he would not rise again, and then he rushed over to John. “My darling blogger, are you all right? Speak to me!”

John gagged and startled himself awake. His mouth tasted utterly foul. He glanced to the telly, now showing some banal late-night commercial, to Sherlock, sleeping on the sofa, to the half-eaten curry takeaway boxes on the coffee table. He nudged Sherlock with his toe.

“Spare me, Ambrosio!” Sherlock gasped, coming awake. He sat up straight and looked at John in confusion. “What did I just say? What did I just _dream_?”

“Sherlock, what did I tell you about not ordering the curry special?”

“But it looked so interesting with the yak butter in, and paneer and Wensleydale…”

“Don’t tell me. Just don’t.” John ran one hand through his hair. “I’m serious. No. More. Curry. Specials.” He stood up, still feeling ill. “If your dreams were half as bizarre as mine…”

“Worse.” Sherlock shuddered. “The effects of the first curry special might have been coincidence, but when an experiment is repeatable and consistent, the results are proven. I don’t believe we need a third trial.”

John groaned. He thought about protesting further but gave it up as a bad job. He had more urgent matters to attend to, like brushing his teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 17, 2019.


End file.
